The Unspoken Goal
by lalala777
Summary: They fought together well as a team during the Battle of Manhattan, sure, but each Avenger slowly realizes it's going to take more than that to reach the unspoken goal. To become a family. Series of 10 one-shots, each based off a song. Team-fic.
1. Chapter 1

_**Author's Note: **__So this story will be in basically unrelated one-shot form. There will be ten of them, and each one will be titled with a song that inspired the drabble. All of them will be about the Avengers working together as a team, and maybe some hints of couples. You guys leave me a review and tell me what you want._

_This song is by Nine Inch Nails._

_**Disclaimer: **__If I owned the Avengers… Possibilities! But unfortunately… Not a chance._

**We're in this Together**

All in all, Natasha was uncomfortable.

She had agreed to the Avengers initiative with no reserves. The world had needed all six unique individuals working together, and while she was in no way thrilled to be on a team –she usually would only accept working with Clint at all- it had been necessary.

But what she had not agreed to was staying in Stark Tower, knowing all five other conflicting personalities were in the same building, trying to avoid everyone else at all costs. It was by far the most uncomfortable, _irritating _position she had ever been in, and that was saying something, because Natasha had been in a lot of uncomfortable and irritating positions.

For the first few weeks, she had bowed to Fury's wishes, training late at night and eating sporadically, whenever she could sneak into the kitchen when Tony and Steve went at it. Again.

Clint had caught her unawares a few times, asking her how she was doing, commenting that they all didn't see much of her. She had replied with a noncommittal noise, immediately disappearing off the grid once more. Tony had tried the same a few times, believing that the fact she had been his PA meant that he was closer to her than the others, ultimately failing. Instead, he left her sticky notes on the refrigerator. They started out by just teasing her, but eventually began holding undertones of pleading, asking her to come out to dinner with them, to help him and Bruce teach Steve how to play "Life". Last Sunday, there had even been one telling her that Movie Night was every Friday, and they were watching Star Wars that week.

Frankly, Natasha was sick of it. And somewhere deep inside, she knew she was sick of it because she was caving.

It was Friday night, and she was in the gym, knowing no one would be there because everyone was watching Star Wars. She could hear the soft sounds of Darth Vader's theme, and in a moment of weakness, asked Jarvis to play her the audio over the gym's loudspeakers. She listened to a fight between Leia and Han Solo as she beat up her punching bag, so wrapped up in the dialogue that she barely heard the door slide open. But she was Natasha Romanoff, the Black Widow, so she did, and she turned to greet the intruder. It was Steve. "Captain," she acknowledged, knowing she had just been caught red-handed. She berated herself for being stupid and sentimental enough to care what the boys were watching.

"Natasha," Steve returned. "Stark called a bathroom break, and I was…" He paused. "Well, I was wondering if you'd come and watch the rest of the movie with us?" His baby blue eyes gazed pleadingly at her, and Natasha fidgeted awkwardly. "We've all missed – I mean, you know you're the only one who can keep a handle on Stark," he added stutteringly, still obviously begging. In the back of her mind, Natasha noted it was kind of pitiful. Of course, so was what she was about to do.

In the end, she would claim it to be the blue eyes that caught her. "Sure," she replied quietly. "Just because of the whole Stark thing," she finished quickly, begging Steve with her eyes not to call her bluff.

She had always known the super solider was kind. He simply smiled, leading her downstairs to meet the rest of the team. To her complete surprise, no one said anything about her presence. Tony only _winked._ She narrowed her eyes, beginning to get a little suspicious.

Clint and Thor were sprawled out on the ground, each with an entire fist in the popcorn bowl, munching contentedly. Bruce was leaning against the couch, and he smiled shyly up at her. Steve pulled her between him and Tony on the sofa, the latter immediately grabbing her by the belt loop of her skinny jeans and yanking a gun out from where she had tucked it. She began to protest, but he cut her off.

"Don't need a gun to watch a movie, do you?" He asked, raising an eyebrow. He tossed the gun behind the couch.

Clint, being a complete and utter traitor, piped in from the floor. "Yeah, Tash, you don't see my arrows anywhere."

Natasha rolled her eyes, sinking back into the couch and training her eyes on the screen. She tried not the overanalyze the fact that the movie was not Star Wars like it had been earlier, but some flick about a group of people that hated each other at the beginning but eventually became best friends somewhere along the way. She had underestimated how exhausted she was, and towards the end, she dozed off, her neck leaning awkwardly against the head of the couch.

Bruce, Clint, and Thor had fallen asleep even earlier, leaving Tony and Steve to watch the movie through. So they did, staring groggily at the blank screen even after Jarvis shut off the movie.

Steve, ever the gentleman, immediately noticed Natasha's uncomfortable-looking predicament. "Should we-" he began slowly.

Tony, ever the playboy, silently maneuvered the Black Widow's head onto his lap; he was far too exhausted to think of the possibly consequences when she woke up, and Steve was far too tired to warn him.

Bruce's head fell comfortably onto Natasha's stomach, and Steve swung her legs up so they rested on his thighs. This caused Natasha to straighten out, shifting her head on Tony's lap. The billionaire dropped a hand on her head, sifting through the fiery locks.

And for the first time, the Avengers were truly working as a team.

AAA

Natasha had done many things, and she had seen even more. But when she woke up with her head in Tony Stark's lap, she nearly had a heart attack.

She quickly rolled off the couch, barely missing Bruce's prone body. She was lucky his head had shifted off her stomach sometime in the night and caused him to curl up on the floor. It probably had happened the same time that she had buried her upper body farther into Tony's warmth, and tucked her small, bare feet under Steve's thighs. At this dispassionate mental observation, Natasha blanched.

Oh _God…_

She slowly got to her feet, inching toward the doorway. It was time; time for her to disappear again. She knew it was long overdue, and as her sorrowful eyes trailed over every last inch of her companions, she berated herself for not leaving sooner. She had begun to get too attached.

She had almost reached the door – in her eyes, her freedom- when Thor stirred, awakening to stare at her with sleepy eyes. "Lady Natasha?" He asked in confusion. "Are you leaving?"

Natasha inwardly grimaced, but managed force a believable smile on the outside. "Just going to the bathroom, Thor," she clarified, putting the exact right amount of annoyance and fondness that would give Thor no reason to question her. She was right; the god only nodded and rolled over on his other side.

The Black Widow tore out of the room, running up to her level in order to toss a few things in a black drawstring bag and change into a pair of skinny jeans and a button-down white Oxford. She combed her fingers through her hair, throwing on some essential makeup before entering the elevator.

"Jarvis, could you have my car pulled out front?"

The AI responded promptly. "Of course, Miss Romanoff." There was a beat of silence; Natasha waited for the automated butler to keep speaking, like she knew it would. "Miss Romanoff" –there it was- "May I advise you that this might not be the best course of action? Perhaps you have made a hasty decision."

Natasha gave a tight smile. "Tell Stark and the others that I'm sorry."

"Will do, Miss Romanoff."

The elevator made a ding as the doors slid open on the ground level. Natasha kept her eyes trained down, wondering if she _did _make a little bit of a hasty decision, until the doors were fully open. She raised her eyes, took one step forward, and froze.

There stood all five male Avengers, in all their sleepwear glory.

"Going somewhere, Red?" Tony asked immediately with his arms crossed unforgiving over his chest, not missing a beat.

Natasha was silent, knowing she had been caught red-handed. She went from face to face, looking for any sign of weakness, but even Steve and Thor looked extremely serious. Tony and Bruce just looked plain angry and hurt –she would have to be careful what she said, because of the latter. She glanced at Clint, but immediately looked away. He was the worst, not angry or hurt or serious, as much as simply _disappointed. _

"I-" Natasha began.

Tony cut her off immediately, apparently the designated voice for the group, which on the side, Natasha observed was probably a smart decision. "You what? Were going to tear out of here without a single word? Were going to leave this team and take away our only badass, smoking hot female assassin?"

Steve spoke up, voice quiet and pained. "We're not the Avengers without you, Natasha."

"Why do you think I leave those sticky notes on the 'fridge?" Tony jumped back in. "Because I get a kick out of it? No, it's because I-"

"And by 'I', he means 'we'," Clint added.

"- Want to see more of you!" Tony finished. "Do you even care about being part of the Avengers at all? Because I, and sue my narcissistic ass for saying this, care. I care a lot," Tony admitted.

Natasha knew this is where she was supposed to put on a tough, uncaring façade and emotionally tear down all the men in front of her. This was where she stormed out of Stark Tower and found herself a different world to stay in, because she didn't need these people. She had always only had herself, and she knew all she really needed was herself.

But, the thing was, she didn't know that. And so her answer was different.

It was an answer in the form of her drawstring bag hitting the floor, the happily shocked faces around her, the multiple arms that enveloped her a second later. And she didn't protest.

Because Natasha Romanoff thought she could get used to hugs like this.

AAA

_Thoughts?_


	2. Titanium

_**Author's Note: **__Titanium, by David Guetta. Thank you all so much for the reviews last chapter, they meant a lot!_

_Sorry in advance for all Pepper lovers. She and I are seriously on the best of terms, but my loyalty is to the Avengers._

**Titanium**

"_I'm bulletproof, nothing to lose."_

"_Fire away. Fire away."_

Steve Rodgers was supposed to be on vacation. Fury had even assured him that no calls would reach him, unless the entire world was falling apart.

Of course, he was Captain America of the Avengers Initiative, so he should've known he would never get a break. Oh well, he liked to save people.

And with one call from a slightly frantic Clint Barton, he was on his way to save the least likely person he could think of.

Meanwhile, across an ocean, a few deserts, and a sea, Bruce Banner was having a serious case of deja vu.

A small, young girl ran into a hut on the edge of the village, and the scientist entered curiously behind her. He knew this was a ruse, but despite himself, he was seriously eager to see the Black Widow. The Hulk lurked silently under his skin.

"Doctor Banner?"

Bruce sighed in mock defeat, but in spite of himself, a small smile pulled at the corner of his mouth. "Agent Romanoff," he greeted smoothly, turning to face the redhead. "How... interesting to find you here. The world already in mortal peril again?"

Interestingly, the redhead's face held no hint of a smile, but instead her eyes glimmered slightly. Bruce started slightly, the Hulk taking a leap; was she actually upset?

"I suppose you haven't seen the headlines, then," she assumed, before laying a newspaper out on the table before her. Bruce, no longer afraid of close contact with the assassin like before, walked up and scanned it.

His mouth immediately curled into a frown. "Oh dear. Let's go now, shall we?"

The redhead nodded firmly, leading him quickly out the door. Though in a hurry, Bruce did notice that there were no men surrounding the area this time. Natasha trusted him?

"I suppose the Director authorized this mission?" Bruce yelled over the whirl of the helicopter as Natasha took the controls and brought them up into the air.

Though he could not see her face, the scientist observed the woman shaking her head. "Not at all, actually," she informed him seriously. "The idiot is our responsibility."

Bruce stared at her in shock. "Then what role am I to play in this?" he asked promptly, a bit frightened.

Natasha looked back at him, this time with a small smirk on her face. "You, with the help of Clint and Captain Rodgers, will be running Stark Industries."

AAA

"_Tony, I'm with Happy now."_

"_Tony?"_

"_Tony, I'm so sorry."_

"_Tony, I'm just going to… going to give you some time."_

"_Goodbye, Tony."_

Tony Stark woke up with a fevered gasp, sweat beading his forehead and a wild look in his eyes. He glanced at his clock: 10am. He frowned; Pepper should've been in to wake up him up earlier. She never let him sleep this late…

Suddenly, it all came back to him. _Pepper._

Their breakup had been sudden, something he wasn't ready for at all. It had been a quiet affair, with only her pleading voice, detailing his faults and explaining why they weren't going to work. He had always known that her thorough nature would be the death of him one day.

It had been short, also; he was too astonished to even speak, until he calmly interrupted her and told her to get the _fuck _out of his house. Even then, she was silent, gathering her bags and just… just _going._

Shaking himself free of his thoughts, he grabbed the bottle half empty of Scotch on his side table and stumbled out of his bedroom. He followed the enticing smell of bacon and eggs into his living room…

Then he paused. Wait a minute…

_Bacon and eggs?_

He dropped the bottle, letting it shatter on the floor, arriving quickly in his living area despite Jarvis' cautions to 'move more slowly in his inebriated state'. His mouth dropped open; sure enough, a full out breakfast was waiting for him on the bar, orange juice and whipped cream on the pancakes and all. A smile broke out on his face; Pepper _must _be back, and she was so sorry that she was actually using her terrible cooking skills to make him breakfast.

He made his way over to the bar, munching on a piece of delicious bacon and trying to decide how long he was going to take to forgive her.

But, again, he had to do a double take, realizing along the way that being hung-over really took away his ability to rationalize. This bacon was _amazing. _Pepper could _not _have made this bacon.

"Mr. Stark?"

Tony swiveled around to face a completely unexpected Natasha Romanoff coming out of the elevator, one with perfectly coiffed long red hair and a flattering business suit on. She had his dry cleaning in her right hand and a full planner in her left, and he simply watched her in shock as she spoke casually to Jarvis about the schedule before hanging his dry cleaning in the closet.

"R-romanoff?" He stuttered helplessly. What the hell was she doing here?

Natasha peered at him from behind the counter, where she was pouring him a cup of coffee. "It's Rushman for now," she corrected matter-of-factly. "You have to do some press tomorrow; Barton will be working on your statement, so you don't have to worry about that. You have a board meeting at two o'clock this afternoon, and in since you have gone to _none _for this past week, you _will _be there." Tony attempted to speak after this, but Natasha kept going. "And eat your breakfast," she commanded, and because he had a tendency to listen to women who could kill him in three seconds –and though he would never admit it, he was starving- he sat down and began to shove food into his mouth.

Natasha left the room, coming back seconds later with his phone and her bag. "We're leaving in five minutes for Morgan Stanley Children's Hospital," she informed him coolly. "I'll wait with Thor in the lobby."

She turned to leave, but Tony called her back. "Wait, Thor's here too?" She nodded. "Is everyone here?" He asked a few seconds later. She nodded again. "Why are _you _here?"

Natasha seemed to consider him for a minute, and her expression softened slightly before she dropped her bag on the floor and walked briskly toward him. She wrapped her cold, thin, yet muscular arms around him for exactly 3.2 seconds. He counted. It was over before Tony's shocked frame could register the touch, and by the time he was ready to wrap his arms around the comforting warmth of another body and never let go, she was already at a safe distance. He was glad; that would've been humiliating.

"You're… _important _to us, Stark," she answered carefully.

A thought suddenly came to Tony. "So all this… this is Fury's orders," he realized, slumping slightly.

Natasha picked up her bag, backing into the elevator. The doors had almost closed before a slim finger slammed down on the open door button. The redhead hesitated, before speaking quickly. "Fury thinks Barton and I are currently in Kyoto, and will think that until we leave this building and I show up as your rebound on a bunch of tabloids," she told him.

Tony nodded, surprised though he tried not to show it. "For the record," he mentioned, "I like your hair better long." After he said it, he couldn't believe the words came out of his mouth. He _liked _her _hair? _That was obviously not important right now!

But, in his defense, it was pretty.

The billionaire's mouth dropped open when she winked at him. "There's hangover relief in that coffee, by the way," she said, not responding to his slightly flirty comment, before the doors whisked shut.

Thor eyed her curiously when she stepped out of the elevator. "Lady Natasha, your hair…" he trailed off, instead cautiously reaching up and setting a lock back in its place. "It was out of place," he explained, blushing at Natasha's wide-eyed stare.

"It's okay," she told him calmly, sending the God of Thunder an awkward sideways glance. It had been a while since someone had touched her hair and it hadn't been of malicious intent.

"When the Man of Iron arrives, where is it that we are going?" Thor inquired, attempting to break the silence. Natasha smiled slightly at him, appreciative.

"The Children's Cancer Center," Natasha replied. At Thor's confused gaze, she explained further. "Cancer is a disease that kills a lot of people. Children can get it too."

Thor nodded. "Oh. That is sad."

"Very."

The elevator let out a resounding ding, and Tony appeared, looking only slightly better than he had before. He ran his fingers through his hair, almost unconsciously turning to Natasha for approval. Just as he used to turn to Pepper.

Pepper.

"Natas- Natalie?" He corrected immediately, knowing she had to keep somewhat of a cover. Natasha cocked her head, and Tony held out an arm to her. Normally she would've turned away, but she noticed his entire arm was shaking slightly, so she stepped closer and looped her arm through his, effectively holding him up. He grinned at her in thanks, glad she realized that he was still off-balance, in more ways than one.

Thor held open the door for them, and practically knocked reporters away, doing well at his whole 'bodyguard' routine. The hammer he held menacingly in his right hand helped quite a bit too.

However, when questioned later, one reporter commented that the only reason he stayed far away from Tony Stark was the icy glare from the redhead next to him.

And so 'Natalie Rushman's' bad rep with the press began.

AAA

Bruce Banner pulled up the front of the main New York offices for Stark Industries. Getting off his motorcycle, he looked around for a familiar face; Natasha had told him either Steve or Clint would greet him at the entrance.

"Hello there."

Bruce nearly jumped a mile. Behind him stood a very ragged-looking Clint Barton, looking at him with weary, but smug eyes. "At least I can still scare some people," he murmured.

Bruce chuckled nervously. "Yeah, but I'd be the wrong person to scare." He adjusted his glasses, and smiled tightly at the archer in front of him. He self-consciously ran a hand through his curly hair, picking up his suitcase, which included all the important things: his tools and a toothbrush.

Clint smiled back, leading him into the building and shoving some notes in his hands. "Okay, Doctor, all you'll be doing is running the science side of things, conferring with all of Stark's head scientist and staying ahead of Hammer Industries." Bruce grinned; that shouldn't be a problem… "Tasha's going to try to get some work out of him tonight, and after you, Steve, and I get things under control here, we'll hole up there."

Bruce, having looked over the notes, already had some ideas and urgent things of which to take care. They entered the elevator, and Clint pressed the button for the 50th floor. "How is he holding up?" Bruce finally asked, switching gears from work to personal.

"According to Natasha, decently," Clint answered, his expression turning protectively angry. "If I ever see that bitch-"

"Barton… Clint," Bruce interrupted, "Tony wouldn't want you to hurt her."

"Well she hurt him!" Clint yelled, and when Bruce tried to retort, he was stopped by the elevator opening on the 14th floor to let some employees in. The workers were quiet on the way up, reading the tension already present in the small contraption and not wanting to feed it.

When both men stepped off the elevator, Clint stopped Bruce by holding his arm back. The scientist turned back to him. "I don't have many friends," Clint began seriously, "but I'm starting to count you and Tony among them. I protect my friends."

Bruce backed away, a bit intimidated by the sudden change in the air. It had been a while since someone had declared themselves his friend, except for Tony, and that had been jokingly. Clint seemed to realize this, and changed directions immediately, motioning a young woman forward that had been patiently standing in the background. "This is Lana, she'll be your assistant."

Bruce smiled hesitantly at the young girl. "Hello, Lana." She returned his greeting softly. "Can you, um, set up a call to Doctor Neely in the conference room? I need to talk to him about his rate of production."

"Of course, Doctor Banner," she replied, beginning to walk down the long hallway to their right. Then she paused, turning back to the two men. "By the way, I think Mr. Stark has very remarkable friends, for you all to be doing this. Thank you."

Bruce barely managed a 'you're welcome', staring at the girl in shock as she blushed and turned around, walking away.

Clint grinned. "Someone has a crush," he sang under his breath. Bruce was pretty sure the young intern had heard it, judging by the way she had quickly ducked into a conference room

"Shut up," Bruce frowned lightly, punching the younger man on the arm.

Suddenly, Steve appeared, leaving a room about four doors down. He smiled softly at the pair, but he, like Clint, looked exhausted. "Doctor Banner, I'm glad you're here."

"Happy to be here, Captain," the scientist greeted, shaking the soldier's hand. "And Barton… I'm sure Tony would thank you for that," he added to the archer. The shorter man seemed to catch his reference, and nodded thankfully.

Steve smiled absently, unsure of what that was about. "Alrighty then. Agent, Doctor, let's get this show on the road.

Not one of the three men realized that, within the stress of the next hour, they would all be on first name basis in no time.

AAA

_The next day…_

Natasha and Thor stared down the man across from them.

"No," he said simply.

Natasha rolled her eyes. "Stark, you're going in there, whether you like it or not."

"You don't understand," Tony pleaded. "I'm not ready, I can't face her."

The other two avengers shared a look. "Man of Iron, you must. Lady Pepper aids you in your company running, as you call it."

"This press conference…"

Tony lost it.

"Natasha, I can't! I never knew I could love before Pepper, and then she up and left. Do you know how that feels? Do you know how I felt? Thor over here has the perfect love life, and you… well, you kill men after you sleep with them."

He was interrupted by the slamming of the car door.

"That wasn't the best course of action, was it?" Tony asked rhetorically, staring at the place where Natasha had just disappeared.

"It was not," Thor replied gravely.

Tony rolled his eyes. "Well, we better go then," he said, resigned. Thor grinned at him happily, before leaving the car to open the door for the billionaire. Tony exited, only to find Natasha standing there with a smug grin on her face. Tony deflated; he had actually thought she had gotten hurt by his insult… no luck, he guessed.

The Cancer Center yesterday had been a strange experience. He had briefly forgotten people had it worse then a simple breakup, and the children were delighted to see that two members of the infamous Avengers –Natasha and Clint were still undercover- had come to visit them, of all people. Ironically, by the end of the visit, it was Natasha that got most of the awe, after she showed the children a few moves. Performed on Thor, of course.

The billionaire jerked back into the present. Thor led him inside, Natasha following silently. The second he entered the room, bright flashes ricocheted across his vision, and for a second he felt lost. But then, he felt a hand on his arm, and he looked over to see a calm Bruce smiling shyly, but encouragingly, at him. And then he saw Steve standing on the podium about ten feet away, and Clint keeping back eager reporters.

And for the first time since Pepper had left, Tony felt safe… content. Judging from the looks on the faces of his team members, if anyone dared even _talk _to him, they would be murdered.

However, seconds later, the feeling disappeared, for a certain strawberry-blonde caught his eye. He choked slightly, and there was a stutter in his step. Natasha placed a calming hand on his back, urging him forward. Swallowing hard, he moved.

Though it passed so quickly he barely understood what he was saying, apparently he gave a convincing explanation as to why he had disappeared for a week. Of course, everyone knew that Pepper and he had broken up, but they didn't have to know how weak he was, mourning her for so long. He bet she didn't even think about him now.

Sometimes he wished he were strong. That he was made of iron, like his suit. Titanium.

Sometimes he wished he were like Steve's shield, like the Hulk, like –seemingly- Natasha. Bulletproof.

_One more note-worthy thing: _

After the press left, Pepper attempted to speak with him, making her way across the room. Thor and Clint blocked her way.

"Tony, talk to me," she pleaded.

Steve frowned at her desperateness. "Mr. Stark does not wish to speak with you," he replied. "Please go." He nodded to the anxiously waiting Happy at the doorway, obviously not happy that his girlfriend was so pushy.

Pepper glared at him. "Excuse me, Captain Rodgers, but _Mr. Stark _is the owner of the company of which I am CEO. If he doesn't speak to me, then I can't do my job!"

In a move that Tony was pretty sure was just to piss Pepper off, Natasha snaked her arms around his waist, propping her chin up on his shoulder. "_Then do it, _Miss Potts. We have no need of you here."

Pepper's face grew red. "If he's going to be CEO again, he doesn't have anyone to help. He doesn't even have an assistant!" She shouted.

Natasha's face, in contrast, grew paler. Thor and Steve had stepped aside, more than a little frightened of the fiery redhead. "Yes, he does," she said shortly. "I am."

Pepper burst into laughter. "You?" she said disbelievingly, after she had caught her breath. "The assassin? You can't even keep your own life in order!"

Natasha moved with such speed that she seemed only a blur. She lunged at the strawberry-blonde, and Clint barely had the presence of mind to catch the assassin around the waist, hauling her back against him. Clint didn't stop her words, though, he didn't want to. "Well, at least I'm not a lying bitch," she hissed, straining against the archer's arms.

All it took was seeing Pepper putting down the woman who brought him back to his feet, and Tony finally spoke up. That was it. He was done.

"You're fired," he said simply, taking both Natasha and Clint by the arm, ignoring the astonished look on Pepper's face. "Get out of my life."

A completely renewed Tony Stark led his_ family_ out of the building, and this time, he was smiling for every single picture.

AAA

_I will take suggestions for songs, if anyone wants to contribute. Also, if you want to see a character centered, I might be able to make that happen… Except maybe Thor…_

_Review, pretty please!_


	3. Warning Sign

**Author's Note: **_Hey guys! It's been a while. I've been crazy busy, but I'm going to follow this thing through, I promise._

_So this one is Clint and Bruce centric the most, but it has a good dose of the others. I also did not look over this. Praying for no huge mistakes!_

_The song is "Warning Sign" by Coldplay._

_Enjoy!_

**Warning Sign**

"_When the truth is… that I miss you."_

When Natasha Romanoff came to Clint Barton, suitcase packed and ready to leave Stark Tower, she needed no words. Of course he went with her.

He had always known that she was never truly comfortable with the other Avengers, forever feeling like she had so much more to atone for than them. So much more red in her ledger.

So he packed up, and avoiding the labs and gym, they left. Just like that.

SHIELD took them back with open arms. They returned to their special ops team, and soon their masquerade as Avengers faded away, just like a dream.

A few of the other agents regarded them warily, but that was nothing new. It was always made clear that the Black Widow and Hawkeye were the best of the best at what they do, and weren't to be messed with if you valued your life, job, or reputation. No one ever sought them out romantically either, because it was always assumed that they were with each other. Neither assassin bothered to correct this; Natasha knew that if a fellow agent ever asked her out anyway, he would have an arrow up his ass. And that is if she didn't get to him first.

When Clint had the time, he liked to carve his own arrowheads. The steel, standard-issued arrows were fantastic to use, but there was something familiar and comforting in the meticulous sound of his knife scraping the wood with long, sure strokes. So six days after their "escape" found the two assassins in one of the basement gyms, typically unused, with Natasha firing round after round into the targets across the room and the sounds of Clint's knife hitting wood filling the room.

The silence grew heavier and heavier until Clint finally decided he had to break it. The truth of Natasha's sudden decision that she could no longer stay with the Avengers had been haunting him day and night, to the point where he couldn't even sleep.

"Tasha?" He began cautiously, treading carefully. He knew he was her best friend, but if he phrased this wrong, she would up and leave. He didn't doubt it for a minute.

"Hm?" She replied absent-mindedly, but he noticed the way her shoulders tensed slightly. She must have picked up on the trepidation in his voice.

Clint took a deep breath, setting his arrow and knife aside before plowing forward. "Why did we have to leave?"

The archer only detected a minute amount of uncertainly flash in her body language before she fired at the target again, simply replying: "_You _didn't have to leave, Hawkeye. You could've stayed."

He knew "Hawkeye" was his warning to '_back the hell off or the next bullet I fire will be through your brain_'. However, Clint did not get to where he was now by taking a hint. "You know I wouldn't have stayed without you, Tasha," he retorted affectionately. The redhead simply snorted at his words. "Natasha…" he began again after a few seconds. "You still haven't answered my question."

The assassin paused. "Can't we just leave it there?" she sighed exasperatedly. "Come on, let's spar," she ordered, placing her guns on the bench he was sitting on. She held out a hand, offering to help him up.

Clint ignored it. "Don't think I'm falling for that again," he laughed, remembering how, the last time he had taken her hand, she had flipped him on his back and reminded him slyly that he always needed to be on guard. The redhead retracted her outstretched limb, before sinking into a crouch.

"All right, then," she prodded. "Let's go."

Clint raised an eyebrow, charging at the assassin. Natasha reached up, but he sidestepped at the last second, evading her. She swiped a leg out, tripping him, but not before he had an arm on her wrist, tossing her halfway across the room. They both took a second to recover, and then they were on each other again.

"You never… answered… my question!" Clint gritted out. Natasha slipped out of his grip and wrapped her legs around his waist, climbing onto his back. She said nothing, a single drop of liquid dropping from her face and sizzling onto his bare shoulder.

Clint thought it was sweat, and Natasha would never correct him.

She kicked him hard in the stomach, not even staying to watch him sink to the floor at the agony. There would be a bruise tomorrow, he knew. He also knew she didn't regret it: not one bit. It wasn't in her nature.

"Tasha, wait!" He gasped, staggering to his feet and running after her despite the pain coming from his stomach. He didn't even stop to get his bow and his quiver, knowing that no one would dare touch them anyway. The archer took off down the hall, passing a junior agent when he reached the elevator. "Romanoff?" He questioned breathlessly, though it came out as more of a demand. The girl quivered underneath his blue-eyed stare. She tried to speak, but it came out as a stutter. Clint tried to soften his gaze. "Please," he beseeched.

"L-level t-ten," the girl managed. "I saw her push the b-button."

Clint nodded his thanks, rushing past the girl and into the open elevator. He waited impatiently until the doors slid open, and then he was running out. The elevator had been a blessing in hindsight, allowing him to gather his thoughts. The only place on Level Ten that Natasha could possibly need to go to would be Director Fury's office. Before, he would've had two options: Fury or Coul-

Clint stopped short, shaking his head swiftly and choking back the lump in his throat. He wouldn't… _couldn't _go there. Not now. Not today.

Clearing his thoughts, as any good assassin would be able to do, he skidded into Fury's office and found his quarry. The Black Widow was leaning over the Director's desk, both hands gripping the glass so tightly, it was if the redhead thought if she let go she'd punch something. And considering the nearest "thing" was the Director, it was probably a good move to grip the desk.

"I don't know if that's the best idea, Agent," Fury was saying, taking in Natasha's obvious anger with a coolly surprised face.

"Of course it is," Natasha clipped coldly. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I will go pack."

She spun on her heel, but Clint had moved to block the door. He stared at her for a minute, uncertain. "What's not the best idea, Director? If you don't mind," he added, his eyes never leaving Natasha's face. She wouldn't meet his eyes, her green ones fixed impatiently at a spot beyond his shoulder.

Fury looked at him curiously for a minute, before consenting. "Agent Romanoff wants a leave of absence to pursue a mission of her own. And as long as she assures me she is doing _nothing that I wouldn't do," _he turned his gaze to Natasha, "I was going to give it to her."

Natasha turned to face her boss, and although she didn't show it, Clint knew she was glad to turn away from his unwavering stare. "I'm not sure what _your _limits are, Director," she began wryly, "but I won't be breaking any laws, if that's what you are asking." Then she left, ducking under his arm.

And for some reason, Clint didn't have the strength, or the heart, to stop her.

AAA

Bruce typed the results of Tony's and his most recent experiment, but his fingers kept freezing up. This wasn't right. He glanced at the doorway, looking across the hall at Clint's usual gym. There was no thump of an arrow smoothly hitting the target, and some reason, this hindered the scientist's focus instead of helping it. He finally shut the laptop down, quietly telling Jarvis to turn out the light as he left the room.

He passed Tony's lab, wincing as he heard the sound of shattering glass and repeated swearing. He didn't even have to look inside, knowing the billionaire was probably currently surrounded by empty bottles of Scotch and pieces of metal. Bruce shook his head; even Tony Stark couldn't build something right now.

He traveled through the main living area quietly, trying not to disturb Steve. The Captain was sitting with his head in his hands, surrounded by books and movies and newspapers. The scientist wanted to do something, but surprisingly, it was Natasha who usually handled the super soldier when he was like this. Besides, he typically wasn't this bad. Bruce had no idea how to talk to him, and he kind of hated himself for that. Tony usually did all his talking for him, and now even the billionaire was silent when in Steve's presence. Bruce sort of missed the barbs they would shoot at each other; anything was better than this silence.

Finally, he reached the kitchen, grabbing a banana from the fruit bowl. They were getting low, he noticed. Maybe it was time for one of them to leave the tower. Bruce glanced at Thor, who was sitting quietly and staring at an unwrapped Pop-tart. Their glances awkwardly met, before they looked away.

Maybe it wasn't quite time. Not yet.

Sometimes, Bruce would turn on the TV and watch recordings of their saving of New York. But he had to turn it off pretty quickly, because it wouldn't be long before one of the many reporters commentating would mention the four remaining at the tower. They would almost always brush over the master assassins, clearly pointing out their so-called worth to the Avengers Team.

And then Bruce would seriously want to Hulk out on them. Repeatedly.

_Worse than Loki. _

And that was saying something.

Because no one, _no one, _should dare tell Bruce, or any of the others, that Natasha and Clint were not important, vital… _fundamental _to the team. Over the past week, the four had experienced firsthand what it was like without the assassins, and suffice to say none of them wanted to experience any more of it.

Of course, Tony was to first to suggest they go after them, and Thor was right behind him, but Steve and Bruce said no. If Natasha and Clint had left the team voluntarily, then there was nothing they could do.

It was a monumental argument, in which Bruce had turned green multiple times, lightning had flashed outside with no signs of rain, and Tony and Steve were in each other's faces the entire time. After "The Argument", they had entered this terrible silence, only leaving when duty called. And Bruce was sick of it, though he knew there was nothing he could do.

"Doctor Banner?"

Jarvis' voice seemed to echo throughout the empty, noiseless house, and Bruce was quick to respond because of that, clearing his throat first. "Yes, Jarvis?"

Jarvis seemed to hesitate. "I would normally tell Mr. Stark this, but he is… not well." The AI paused again. "But Mr. Barton is at the door," it finished.

Before Bruce could even respond in his shocked state, a Pop-Tart hit the ground, and Thor was already in the elevator. "Hurry!" He urged the scientist, a wide grin splitting across his face. Suddenly, there was a rush of wind past him, and Steve had grabbed his arm yanking him into the elevator.

The ride down was… interesting. Thor seemed to believe that jumping up and down would make the elevator go faster, and Steve refused to let go of Bruce's arm. The older man nervously adjusted his glasses, fidgeting uncomfortably.

Finally, the doors opened, and Thor tore out, nearly running into a gasping Tony Stark who seemed in a strange state between drunk and completely sober, flying out of the door that was emblazoned 'STAIRS'. Bruce chuckled softly, noting Tony's wide-eyed look. It had to be the first time the billionaire had ever taken the stairs more than two or three flights.

Tony shrugged, grinning. "The elevator was moving too slow," he explained. "We're going to address that later," he added, winking at Bruce before the three of them ran behind Thor as the demigod nearly ripped the front door off its hinges.

Sure enough, there stood an out-of-breath Clint Barton, all decked out in his suit with a full quiver resting on his back. Bruce didn't get to look at him for all, however, because he was almost immediately engulfed in the arms of Thor, who with his superior height lifted the archer clear off his feet. "Clint Barton! You were dearly missed, my friend," Thor exclaimed. "I could not even bring myself to eat my adored Pop-Tarts without you and Lady Natasha with us!"

Tony stepped forward. "Welcome home, Robin Hood," he greeted wryly. "I see you're not wearing the tights I bought you, though." Clint rolled his eyes at the thought of the little impromptu gag gift of "Robin Hood tights" Tony had given him a few weeks ago.

"Trust me," he began dryly, "I'm doing you a favor by not wearing the tights. If I did, you wouldn't be able to keep the ladies off these shapely legs." Tony laughed aloud, and even though Clint's expression stayed completely serious, he couldn't hide the twinkle in his eye.

"Except for Agent Romanoff," Bruce said lightly, regretting the words as soon as they left his mouth. The twinkle immediately died out in the archer's eyes.

"Yes," Clint finally replied after a long silence. "I suppose I couldn't get Natasha with only a pair of tights."

"Speaking of…" Tony trailed off mildly, but in his eyes, Bruce could see a different story, and the scientist was surprised. There was a certain amount of desperation in the chocolate depths, desperation that he had never really seen in Tony before.

"Natasha is who I came here to speak with you about," Clint replied seriously.

It was here that Steve spoke for the first time. "Oh. I thought you were here to stay," he assumed, and the disappointment in his tone was obvious.

"I think we all did," Thor boomed, looking inquisitively at Barton.

The assassin smiled grimly. "Hopefully," he said vaguely.

They all went inside, taking the elevator up to the top floor. Where the main sitting area was located. "What's going on with Natasha?" Steve asked as soon as they got there, not even bothering to sit down.

"She's gone," Clint replied simply. "Took leave from SHIELD, and I need to find her."

They sat silently for half a second before Tony made for the elevator. "I'm suiting up. I'll meet you guys in the Quinjet."

Steve watched the doors close on the billionaire, before turning to the others and nodding.

They had a teammate to retrieve.

AAA

Lucky for the men, Natasha had –of course- taken her guns on her trip. And also lucky for the men, Tony had been a prying jerk and placed trackers on them, which apparently Natasha had not found for some fortunate reason.

"Russia," Tony announced with conviction. "Volgograd, Russia," he clarified, turning to Clint. "Ring any bells?"

The archer set the course, and then he spun around in his chair. He seemed perplexed. "No," he admitted, "but Natasha never gave me any details; she's always been extremely vague about her childhood. She did give me some descriptions, but nothing concrete."

Bruce had already pulled up everything he could get on Volgograd, including a holographic map and some general facts. "Shoot," he told Clint.

Clint furrowed his brow. "Something about a river that she used to play in. And a lot of smog, meaning machines. It was probably industrial."

Bruce nodded. "Let's see… Volgograd is an _extremely _industrial city… placed along the Volga River." He paused, considering. "It seems to match up pretty well, I think."

Steve jumped in. "Let's not jump to conclusions," he warned wisely.

The billionaire rolled his eyes. "Cool it, Granny," he retorted, before turning to the entire group. "Clearly, this place isn't a threat. I'm going into the cockpit and taking this suit off."

"Why can't you just take it off out here?" Steve shot back.

Tony raised an eyebrow. "Is that your way of asking me for a strip-tease, Cap?"

Steve blushed, murmuring something unintelligibly.

"That's what I thought."

A few generally awkward hours later, they were landing. Bruce picked up the tracker, noting that they were nearly on top of the blinking red dot that signaled Natasha's guns. Not one of the five men considered that it was November in Russia, and that it was bound to be relatively cold outside. Not to mention, the most anyone had on was a hoodie, and that was Bruce.

They left the Quinjet by the river, following the tracker up a hill to an old decrepit house. Tony ran up to push the door open, but Steve stopped him, knocking instead. An old, smiling man with a plethora of frown lines let them in, saying hello in Russian before asking them their business in his house.

Steve, Thor, and Clint had confused looks on their faces. Bruce relatively understood Russian, but let Tony, who was fluent, step forward and do the talking.

"_We are looking for a woman_," he began in the harsh language. "_A bit shorter than I, long red hair_-"

"_Oh, Natalia_!" He exclaimed. "_She is by the river_. _Go east._"

"_Spasibo," _Tony thanked, before motioning that everyone follow him. "She is down by the river."

"But we came from the river," Steve put in, confused.

Bruce looked up from his tracker, slipping it into his pocket. Natasha's guns were obviously in the cottage, so the machine was now useless. "The man said she was east, right Tony?" The billionaire nodded. "We came from west of this cottage."

The five men trekked through the light snow, Bruce and Tony shivering. Thor and Steve had abnormal body heat, and Clint was used to braving harsh conditions.

Thor was the first to catch a glimpse of blood red in the flawlessly white snow, and broke into a run, shouting: "Lady Natasha!" The rest followed suit.

The Black Widow, who had been lying on her back in the snow, was on her feet in a split second when she heard Thor's booming voice. Her face registered sheer shock when she saw them all running toward her, but she quickly schooled it back into the stony expression that she usually wore.

Thor, who everyone realized actually _did _have a sense of self-preservation, did not embrace Natasha like he did Clint. They all came to a stop a few feet from the dangerous redhead.

"How did you find me?" She questioned coolly, eyes brushing over Tony and Clint before the green orbs landed directly on Bruce.

Feeling a bit like Katniss in the Hunger Games –it was Tony's fault! He kept making references, and Bruce hated not understanding something- Bruce stepped forward, clearing his throat and adjusting his glasses. "Erm… Well… _Someone _put a tracker in your guns. Then that old man pointed us here."

To everyone's surprise, Natasha did not seem angry. Instead, she seemed to be fighting a smile as she sighed exasperatedly in Tony's direction. "_Stark…"_

The billionaire grinned sheepishly. "Sorry, Tash."

Clint cut into the conversation immediately, because he had to admit, Natasha and Tony's sudden familiarity disturbed him. Deeply. "What were you doing in the snow? You're in a tank top and jeans," he observed disapprovingly.

Natasha rolled her eyes. "I'm Russian… Or was." There was an awkward silence. "Anyway, I never get cold."

The redhead wasn't stupid; she knew that every single man in front of her, especially Clint, was dying to ask her why she left. Why she wanted to leave.

"I was making snow angels," she admitted.

Tony fake-gasped. "Snow angels? Why, Romanoff, there is hope for your fun side yet!"

Natasha ignored the billionaire, turning to Steve. "You used to make them as a child, didn't you?" The super soldier asked. "I remember you telling me that."

Natasha nodded, sitting down in the snow. Steve cautiously walked forward, lying down next to her. When Steve wasn't maimed or killed for doing so, the rest of the boys rushed over and dropped into the cold comfort of the snow.

Over the strange loudness of the flurries of snow, no one noticed Tony Stark sit up and quickly peel off his suit jacket. Crawling over, he slid a gentle, warm hand between a cold neck and curls of blood red, lifting Natasha Romanoff's upper body so he could help push her arms through the jacket. It encased her in warmth, and she smiled gently at the crown of Tony's head, thankful no one could see her moment of weakness. Of fondness for this man she had hated.

A drop of melted snow splashed onto the white ground, unnoticed.

Tony raised himself on his elbows, beginning to move away before suddenly stopping. Hesitantly, he reached over, dragging Natasha a bit closer and pressing his lips to her temple in a moment of what he knew of as vulnerability. He held her there, eyes shut tightly against the dark world outside, welcoming a white world within.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," he whispered raggedly against the smooth skin of her temple, kissing it once more before rolling away.

Natasha's smile went unseen again. Tony had not needed to apologize. The second she had set foot on Russian soil, she had forgiven him.

"Clint?"

"Yeah, Tash?" The archer replied.

"You wanted to know the truth?"

Natasha could feel all the curious gazes that swiveled in her direction, as well as the subdued, resigned stare of Tony. "Yeah, Natasha," Clint replied. "I would."

"Don't feel pressured, Natasha," Steve soothed. "You don't have to-"

However, he was cut off pretty quickly. "Yes, you do," Tony interrupted, and through the snowflakes, brown met green in an instant. But the connection was quickly lost, and Natasha returned to sorting out her words.

"The truth is… not relevant. It doesn't matter anymore, because I… well…"

"Lady Natasha?" Thor prompted.

"I missed you guys. I really did."

AAA

_I'M SORRY I CAN'T HELP THE TONY/TASHA FEELS I NEVER WILL BE ABLE TO CONTROL THEM!_

_Other than that, I hope you enjoyed. Russian translators are dumb, so I hope you guys don't mind that it was just __italicized. _

_Review, pretty please, and remember, suggestions are welcome!_

_-Lala_


End file.
